Edge Of Eden
by gortaithe
Summary: this is Trigun Maximum manga based. Picks up right where Nightow left off. I do change some things though. Come check it out! all manner of pairings with equal parts adventure.
1. Chapter 1

Hello and welcome to my Trigun Fanfiction. I am going to be following the manga directly. So spoilers galore. You've been warned. I use the Trigun Anime loosely. This story takes place at the end of Trigun Maximum. Seriously. It picks up right where Nightow leaves off. So if you were left wondering what happened like I was, please give my story a try. You won't be sorry.

DISCLAIMER: i am a rabid fan of nightow's work and i don't own anything of Trigun or Trigun Maximum.

001

Chronica

The sunrise was beautiful on this planet.

But she was still nervous from anticipation. It didn't show on her hands, as they steadily stirred her morning tea. She looked at the clock again, however, for the umpteenth time. That part of her anxiety was terribly apparent. Thankfully there was no one in the room with her.

She lifted the cup to her lips and tentatively tested the temperature. Hot to almost scorching is how she liked her tea. She liked the way the heat instantly spread throughout and at once sweat would dampen the nape of her neck. The temperature was perfect, so she drank deeply.

She turned on the console at the base of her desk and a familiar hum vibrated as the machine booted up. Several hologram screens lit themselves around her. The files, photos, data's, logistics she had collected were meticulously organized. But there was only one file that held her interest for the day.

Her fingers danced through the hologram as she reached her destination.

Criminal Files.

Her most wanted list was merely a list of two names. Two individuals who had managed to slip away seemingly unnoticed by either her or the soldiers in her command.

She opened the thorough yet scantly detailed profile of both men. Their likeness had been drawn and filed away. Two silly photos were tagged next to their names and known alias'.

First being was Knives, the Millions. She enlarged his picture and found herself wondering if his eyes were truly so crazed as the artist's rendition. But she really already knew the answer to that.

Six months ago, she stared into those eyes herself. She thought she preferred the artist's rendition much better. At least there would have been an excuse for all the havoc he unleashed in the past. At least there was a reason for the deaths of countless people and plants alike. He was crazed.

But on that day.

All she saw was an icy calm. There was nothing wrong or seemingly out of place for him.

She sat back in her seat as confused feelings fluttered to the surface of her thoughts. She thought about the differences between herself and the humans. The life of Independents such as herself did not really exude the arrogance as most humans would assume.

It was true that Independents did not age or get sick like humans. Her mother was a Plant. It is the same for all Independents. The Plants were man made biogenic powerhouses to serve the greater good of mankind.

However, it was unforeseen that the Plants would gain consciousness and abilities of their own. Though it was a miraculous event, it was met with much fear and prejudice. Precautions were taken and the Plants were no longer considered machinery.

They were no longer trusted by the humans that made them.

Even now when she thought of the mentality against her own kind, she felt sadness. To be mistrusted by your own creators. The irony was too much to bear at times.

She imagined that perhaps the same sadness proved too much for Knives and he forgot or ignored the true meaning of his very existence. She sighed. She would never know at this rate. Because both Knives and his brother had been missing since the day the feathers fell from the sky.

The day she saw the bodies of many Plants plummet to the ground below. Feathers trailed behind their decent like downy snow. If the impact did not kill them, the environment did.

The horror of that day six months ago was nothing compared to the sight of her comrade, Domina, fallen and peeled back of her human exterior. Long wings branched in chaotic rows along her skin, her face twisted in pain and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

The true face of the Independent, but born too quickly for her human shell to accommodate. Her body was taken over by Knives by a single thread of will and with great strength she fought against him and all of his divine consciences. In spite of all of her power, her life was snuffed out so easily.

What could she have done differently?

What other path should she have taken?

She jumped out of memory when the in-com in her ear crackled to life.

"Subject unaccounted for…No casualties…Failure to retrieve subject for questioning…Proof subject was residing in Mesa Probe Church in result of injuries…no trail of subject leaving… citizens do not offer any…"

Chronica dug the little ear bud out of her ear and tossed it onto the table top. What did she really expect anyway? Knives was under the protection of a very resourceful Independent.

His twin brother Vash.

Vash the Stampede is what the folks of this planet have taken to calling him. As a whole the people of this place distrusted the Independents as much as they did back on Earth. But for some reason, Vash had managed to build himself a reputation of near messianic proportions.

Chronica opened the file for Vash. Several wanted posters were lined up, with the same picture of a blond smiling idiot waving into the camera. She wondered if anyone had the rest of the photograph. When she closed her eyes she could almost see Vash towering over a group of people with one arm gripping the shoulders of his friends.

The last time she saw Vash, he had been skewered by his own brother. She could remember the dark red blood staining his white wings as they burst from his back. He took flight with his brother Knives in his arms.

Chronica remembered how she had the sights of her canon trained at the back of Vash's head, but before she could fire a bullet zipped through her canon and shut her down.

A tall man came from behind the wall of dust that had been stirred by the hostile planet climate. "It just ain't right to shoot at a woman. Especially, a pretty guest like yourself. Welcome to No Man's Land."

This place was aptly named.

No Man's Land.

Chronica looked up when she heard the doors open, and felt a flash of shame. Her Divine meditations were not wrong, but she could never get ahead of her fugitive siblings next step. She didn't want to have to tell the Captain that he got away again.

It didn't matter. He walked in anyway. His eyes were hidden by the oval glasses he wore. His angular chin was lined with dark stubble lending him a commanding air. As always he wore his flight suit, buttoned to the neck.

His face however, wore appeal for apology. A moment later, Chronica knew why, as a stubby bundle of blankets made its way around his stance.

"I'm so mad right now!" the bundle bellowed as it charged to Chronica's desk and nearly fell over.

"See, I can't see straight I'm so angry. I wake up and I hear we're on this planet Stanel Alpha Vega. But oh the irony, we have already gotten into a fight with the natives from that antiquated Project Seeds. What's this? We've lost half our Plants, battle cruisers, and soldiers." The bundle shivered and tightened its grip on the blanket about its shoulders. "I'm fucking freezing."

"Good morning B." Chronica said warily as she poured another cup of hot tea. "You're not completely awake are you?" Chronica leveled the gaze her deep blue eyes into the dark folds of the blanket.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Pale fleshy arms reached out of the blanket to steady themselves on the table, short stubby fingers splayed wide. Chronica noticed they were shaking.

"There was no need for your expertise. There is a great need for it now so I…"

Hot green tea spattered against the opposite wall, as shattered pieces of porcelain crashed to the ground.

"Why-Didn't-YOU-Wake-Me-Up?"

Before Chronica could reply the bundle slumped forward with a muffled grunt. She jumped from her seat and gathered the shivering mass into her arms. She grunted slightly as she hoisted a heavy arm over her shoulder for support.

"You never follow protocol, do you? Especially, your own." Chronica chided gently as short pale fingers gripped at her forearm.

In a dazed tone the bundle retorted, "I can still see you weeping, 'nica."

The Captain stepped forward but Chronica waved him off, "I've got her, just go ahead and meet me at Med Bay. I'll walk her there." He nodded and left. But as soon as they were alone Chronica allowed silent tears to gather at her eyes.

It was true what B said. She was weeping. Weeping without pause for many days and vengeance had quietly festered in her heart, swallowing her sadness. She wondered if B knew that as well.

Thankfully, B was quiet as Chronica towed her to the Medical wing.


	2. Chapter 2

002

Vash

Sleep had not come easily, but when it finally did, Vash was more than pleased. The ride to Second December was not a comfortable one. He managed to scavenge enough money doing odd jobs and favors to afford the bus fair. He briefly wondered if he should have just waited a little longer and earned a bit more money so he could take a ride on a Sandsteamer instead.

No.

He hadn't seen her in half a year. She probably thought he was dead. The sooner he got to her the better. Too much time had already flown by and so much had happened.

He remembered to relax. He was on his way now. All was as it should be. But for good reason, he didn't think that it would continue to be so.

Then he began to dream.

He saw flashes of blue sky and realized he was flying again. But this time he was alone, naked and afraid. In one hand he carried a strange fruit and in the other a balance fully tipped with blood. He knew the blood belonged to his brother as did the fruit.

The image was important but he didn't know why.

But as he looked below him, he could see tiny lights. Each shimmer a different color and intensity. He could hear the voices and consciences of many.

They were full and heavy with existence.

But now they rushed past him and he knew he was falling. The weight of the blood in his hand pulled him faster still but he did not let go. Instead, he drew within himself and pressed the things belonging to his brother against his chest.

Although he was falling and full of fear, his heart beat steadily.

Just as the ground came rushing up to meet him, he felt excruciating pain at his back. He heard the sound of his flesh tearing apart as black wings stained with blood burst at his back. In a last moment of effort, his wings contracted powerfully and with great gusts of wind managed to escape certain death.

He heard his brother's laughter.

"Even now, brother, you'd die for me but you'd die for _**them**_ all the same…"

Vash began to weep, "Knives, I..."

His eyes snapped open.

It quickly became apparent that everyone was gawking at him. Did he cry out loud? He touched his cheeks still wet with tears and wiped them away as he planted a friendly smile on his face. He waved helplessly to the weary travelers.

Great, as if there was a more effective way of getting attention. Crying was not one of the more manly ones, but as long as he can remember he cried about everything. He once joked that it was why he was able to live so long.

He hunkered down into his uncomfortable seat… awake.

It wasn't long until he heard the uncomfortable silence broken with random coughing and mummers. Mummers about him, he was sure, but thankfully the silence was broken. He found himself listening in on a particular heated debate between two men.

One man had definitely seen better days; his hair was wild and unkempt while his clothes were old and tattered. He was the older of the two gentlemen, and the wiser. The younger man he conversed with was wearing a sweaty white t-shirt that was actually clean. His pants were in good shape and he didn't have the same look as the older man. His eyes were still young and ignorant.

The younger man also did most of the talking.

Scratch that.

Browbeating.

"I don't like them newcomers I tell you. Even with all them pretty gadgets and machines they don't let us have. I don't trust 'em."

"I wouldn't trust you tie my shoes." The older man baited.

"Up yours! Why do you defend them? They been here 6 months and they already taken over the government. Soon we gonna be wearing tattoos and tags on our ears while they make us into slaves while they live the life." The younger man pinched at his ears as though it had already been tagged.

"They stuck here just about as we are, kiddo. Nobody has 'the life' in this place. I wouldn't mind slave'n for a chance to make things better." The older man unfolded a rag and wiped the new sweat from his face.

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard." The younger man was raising his voice.

"Now hold on there. You callin me dumb?" The older man's eyes had narrowed and his gaze had become dangerous. The younger man did not notice and continued.

"Dumb? I just think yer stupid for sayin something like that."

"So now I'm stupid. Listen to me you little punk, you say one more word and I'll show you what happens to idiots."

"Bring it old man."

Vash acted despite the warnings going off in his head. He stood up and waved his hands in the most non threatening way he could muster.

"Hey guys, we're almost there! Drinks on me! How bout it?" Vash blurted interrupting the arguing men. He held steady as both of them directed their angry gazes at him. The younger man cocked one of his brows and pointed into Vash's chest.

"Who the hell are you? Can't you see we're talkin?" the younger man shoved Vash after each word.

Vash quickly retorted, stupidly.

"Looks more like you're going to beat up an old man."

"Who you call'n old? Don't think I can take this little shit?"

Oh crap.

"You should learn to mind your own business. This is between two men, not meant for a sensitive little bitches like you." The younger man shoved Vash hard enough to knock him back onto a young woman nursing an infant.

"I only see one man here." The older man said with a clever smile stretched across his face.

Then it all began on the tiny bus.

Just as the younger man swung at the older man, the woman that Vash almost sat on was up in a flash using her baby to cover her exposed breast and she nearly pushed Vash into the middle of the fight. Everything slowed down in that instant. As he fell forward he saw the older man block said punch and go in with a beautiful right hook of his own.

To bad Vash wouldn't be able to see it, since he was falling. Right into the path of said fist.

Pow.

Right in his head, which in effect send him flying into the younger man's head.

Bam again.

It had to be said that when two skulls meet at a rather accelerated speed, it hurt like hell.

But something told him that it wasn't over yet.

As far as the younger man was concerned, the fight was still on and ran full on into the older man stepping on Vash. Naturally, they both managed to land on top and continue to roll and wrestle. Vash tried to dodge but with so many elbows one was bound to get him. And it did.

Hard.

He felt dizzy and his sight started to tunnel.

He felt the bus slam to a stop.

Thank God!

The driver stomped toward the fighting foray with a gun aimed precariously at the rolling mass on the floor. The two idiots must have seen because they finally stopped fighting and turned to look down the barrel of the driver's gun.

"Alright. Somebody wanna explain what the hell is going on?"

Incredulously, the two men pointed to Vash.

"I don't know what got in him there sir. He just went about nuts. Just started punchin people and sitting on women."

The woman of course, chimed in, "It's true! He almost smothered my baby."

Vash attempted defended himself even though he knew it wouldn't work. He sat up on the floor. "It's just a misunderstanding, sir. Everybody is hot and uncomfortable. So the mood is a bit tense. That's all." He smiled and rubbed his pounding head.

The driver paused for a minute and then lowered his gun. Vash exhaled his relief. That relief was short lived when the driver opened his mouth.

"Everybody is hot and uncomfortable, eh? Well, I believe you can be hot and uncomfortable off my bus." He turned around without another word. He had spoken and the two men that were fighting earlier opened the back of the bus.

Double crap.

"You heard the man." The younger man grabbed Vash's bag and threw it out.

"Well, you gonna walk off or we gonna haveta throw you out?" the older man stepped toward Vash.

Eeep.

"I'm walking. No, I think I'm going to run actually" Vash quickly got up, decided to forgo dusting his bottom and leaped off the end of the bus. The men shut the doors and Vash saw his reflection for the first time in a long time.

His once blond hair had become completely black. It poked out in unruly strands from the ponytail holder. Probably because of the scuffle. And his brand new WHITE button up collar shirt was smudged with inky black dirt. There goes the possibility of at least looking presentable when he went to see her.

Thankfully, his dark blue jeans didn't look too bad. At least he could buy a new shirt once he got to town. He reached into his pocket and to his horror found it empty.

He looked up into the window and saw the younger man dangling his wallet. The engine sputtered to life and the bus moved on its way. Vash ran behind it for a little while, despite the futility. The last sound he heard before the bus was out of hearing distance was the pinched wail of a baby.

Vash kneeled on the dusty sand and wailed just the same.


	3. Chapter 3

003

Jessica

Jessica was rather proud of herself. Having made it to the level of scans and information all on her own, she did not have to think of herself as a child of the 'family' any longer. She was part of the working team that kept things running smoothly.

When the newcomers met with the established government and developed a plan, it had become apparent that more and more people had to be trained. The sheer amount of new technology the Earth Federation had brought with them was vast.

They had come a long way from the 'Lost Technology' the people of this planet managed to work through trial and error.

Jessica suspected that the trials and errors is what led to the Feather Fall six months ago. But nevertheless, she worked hard and studied at a maddening pace. Eventually she managed to surpass her own expectations.

She continuously catalogued incoming data from the census now being run twice a month. She checked, double checked, and triple checked every single citizen profile before entering the permanent file in an immense data computer.

Even now she didn't quite understand the complexities of the computer itself, but she knew it was not a lifeless hunk of metal. This technology was brought from Earth itself and also contained the information for every one of its citizen. The Plant at the center of its operation was in constant communication with the Plants on Earth. However, it was only possible between those two particular Plants. From what Jessica learned they were engineered for precisely that reason.

Because of the precision of those certain Plants, they were limited to only communication and storage, so the Citizen Input Technology branch was created. And when Jessica picked up the newest file to be entered she nearly fell from her chair.

It was deep pain she felt when she saw his picture. All the memories were brought up fresh and to the quick. She slapped the folder closed, calmed her expression and looked around. She nonchalantly opened the folder again and shifted her nervous position to a more comfortable façade.

He looked different to be sure, but she knew who he was. His hair was completely black now. He looked weathered and his slight wrinkles shocked her. He had angry looking bruises on his cheeks. His eyes were still beautiful and innocent as she remembered.

He was a wanted man, Vash was.

She wondered at his amazing luck. Any one of the other technicians could have received his folder, but she did. She wondered if it was some sort of cosmic test. Anger welled up within her and she had to brace herself against the temptation to give his ass to the authorities.

So maybe she wasn't over it yet.

After a few slow breaths she managed to read the file. He was in Second December being treated for dehydration, claiming that his papers and identification had been stolen. The hospital he was in required identification before they could let him leave so his file was rushed.

Jessica felt relieved because had the new medical technologies been at Second December just one scan and tissue sample would expose the fact he was an unaccounted Independent.

No matter how angry and hurt she was she couldn't bring herself to act on her childish whims and begin the game of 'got ya back'. She begrudgingly entered his new falsified information, hating herself for breaking her own code of honesty.

She paused a moment before entering his permanent profile. Her finger hovered above the key for what seemed like an eternity. She exhaled and closed her eyes to shut away the shame and touched the lighted holograph. As she pushed away from her desk she saw the forged profile flitter away into a permanent psudotruth.

And it was done and gone into the past. And just like that she made her first lie for the man she loved and could never truly forgive.

She shivered involuntarily and crept away from the room. Her mind was running in furious circles. She was glad to see he was alive, but he did not bother to let her know. She stopped in mid-thought; he didn't bother to let anyone know. It wasn't about her. She wanted to cry.

What a crappy situation Vash put her in. Well, Alex. She slogged toward the engineer wing hoping to find Brad. He would want to know that Vash, well Alex, was very much alive. She wanted to see Brad's reaction before she allowed herself to fall deeper into gloominess.

The door slid open before she came close enough to activate the motion detector. Three officers walked on deck. She recognized the Commander Chronica and the Captain of the Fleet but the short woman dressed in the same officiate uniform, she didn't recognize. Jessica altered her expression hopefully to one of bland interest; she had just committed fraud after all.

Chronica stopped and extended a greeting to Jessica. Jessica smiled and nodded toward them. Chronica's smile was always warm and touched at her piercing blue eyes. Jessica could see the resemblance in all the Independents. They were almost always tall, fair of hair and eye and possessed kindness not seen in usual strangers.

"Working you too hard, Jessica?" Chronica said, smiling genially.

"I'd say so." Jessica shrugged casually.

Chronica laughed while she motioned to the woman standing behind her. "This is Professor Madden. She is the finest Plant Tech from Earth."

The short, plump, woman blushed and stepped forward to shake Jessica's hand. "I look forward to working with you, Miss Jessica." The professor chanced a small glance but just as quickly looked else where. Her eyes were fair but in the harsh artificial lighting, Jessica could not see the color. Her dark blond hair hung loosely at her shoulders and she didn't seem to really care how she looked.

The professor was an odd one, but then again, most of the Plant Techs were.

"Likewise." Jessica gave a smile and nodded towards her station down the corridor, "I'll always be at C.I.T. if you ever need anything. We've just started a roster for Plants. We give them names now, instead of numbers."

"That is wonderful news." The professor said as she smiled an actual smile. Chronica seemed pleased with the professor's reaction.

"Well, I'm on my lunch break would you like to grab a bite?" Jessica asked, praying that they wouldn't accept. She could only wear her happy mask for so long.

"Thank you for the sweet offer, but we happen to be on our way to a meeting with Luida." The Captian of the Fleet chimed in. He seemed to be in a hurry, and that was good as far as Jessica was concerned.

"Oh, don't let me keep you. See you later." Jessica waved as she turned to walk away.

She walked on by without further incident and found her way to the hanger. And just as she suspected Brad was bowed over the exposed engine of some sort of a machine. His work suit bunched about his hips and the gray blue shirt he wore was soaked with perspiration.

She noticed the broadness of his back and the way the bones and muscles moved. She found herself staring but shook herself from the moment. She didn't like Brad in that way despite the fact he constantly made known his feelings for her.

There was only one man for her and he would not have her.

Brad was not unattractive but he was not gorgeous either. Jessica thought that perhaps he simply needed to refine his appearance but he never showed the interest or bother to. He was always stubborn and she doubted he would change anytime soon. Much less become open to a change in his look.

Before she called out to him he lifted his head and turned around toward her, when he saw her he smiled. It was an easy smile, she thought sullenly as she forced the corners of her mouth to turn upward. She was certain he would see straight through her.

And he did.

"What's wrong?" Brad said as his smiled vanished and worry touched at his dark hazel eyes. He noticed that Jessica forced her smile even more. He recognized it right away.

"Vash?" he said softly. It was no secret that Jessica's interest was not for him, but for that goofy, lanky, reckless, heart of pure solid gold of a man.

"Yes, he's in the system now as Alex. He looks much different than his wanted photo, which is good. He's in Second December." She watched Brad's expression go from disbelief to concealed elation.

"Visiting the girls." Brad said as casually as he could. The fact that Vash was in Second December screamed the reason Jessica looked so sad. It was nearly painful to see her trying to mask the emotional whirlwind with a strained smile.

"Must be. Well, he can't come waltzing here even if he wanted to see us." Jessica said her tone neutral.

"I think we may see him soon. This is good news. Thanks for coming to tell me, Jess." he put his hand lightly on her shoulder. He wished he could give her some sort of encouragement but he knew too well the feeling of love not returned. There was no comfort for that.

It was true he could have reaffirmed what she already knew, and perhaps take advantage of the opportunity to set her sights toward him, if even a little. Maybe even shout that Vash didn't love her, but he kept silent and watched her as she nodded and smile.

A minute later, Luida walked in and Brad promptly removed his hand from Jessica's shoulder. They both nearly stood to attention.

"Brad? Did you forget about the meeting? I don't think you want to miss this one." Luida smiled a small smile.

Jessica swallowed tensely. She was certain that Luida knew about Vash. Her mind raced with a hundred different penalties she would have to serve for violating procedure.

Brad gave Jessica one last meaning for look and left her standing there.

So, Luida didn't know about Vash.

He owed her big this time and she was not going to let him slip away. It was time for a vacation anyway. She smiled to herself. It was a devious smile but a real one.

AN: oh my goodness, this is going to be a task i will be uploading new chapters weekly. if you read and like, please put me on your favorite story list. if you read and DISLIKE flames are welcome, so are informative critiques. i am also working on another fanfic (that i can't post on )


	4. Chapter 4

004

Livio

DING…

It was one of those mornings the sheets felt crisp and cool. The kind when the pull of sleep is unrelenting. It was Sunday and the early sun was directing its beams into the closed lids of his eyes. The heat was becoming uncomfortable and blinding.

DING…

He sat up straight as if lifted by an invisible jerk. His eyes still clouded with sleep could see the bright yellow haze of sunlight shining on the walls of his meager room. He wondered how it was possible to make the room so bright from one very small window.

DING…

Dear sleep still had its grip on his mind and he found himself stumbling around his room as he pulled off his sleeping clothes. He rummaged through his cleaner, discarded clothing, scattered variously around the room and dressed himself as gracefully as a drunk.

DING…

Once he was dressed he hunched over to check his appearance in the small mirror hanging chest level. His bedridden hair didn't look terrible, but he certainly had a rough unkempt look about him this particular morning. His light blond stubble did little to improve it.

DING…

After placing a few wild hairs back into tamer places, he rubbed his face down with a damp washcloth. He looked at the black patterns that surrounded his left eye. His eyes were light brown, but the black contrast made them look yellow. He pulled more strands of his platinum blond hair down over his black patterned forehead and cheek.

DING…

He rubbed at his stubble and decided that he'd shave tomorrow should he have time. Sweet Auntie Melanie had a list or two of things to be repaired. He had been repairing a lot of things since returning to the East December Orphanage. Things he'd destroyed months ago.

DING…

The process went along much easier since the Federation granted them their very own Plant. However, no matter how much he labored, how much he rebuilt, how ragged he became at the end of every day; he was no closer to the redemption he wanted. There was guilt and burden not even prayer could mend.

DING…

It was oddly comforting to be back 'home' after so many years. Though he towered over everyone and frightened most adults, the kids here looked up to him. When he returned, they all simply welcomed him back home and went about restoring East December. More curious than afraid and more trusting than he'd ever been his entire life.

DING…

An unbidden memory flashed within his mind. It was an old memory. It was dark; the black smears on the wall were of blood. Even now he could nearly smell it, never mind taste it as he tongued the split in his lip. He remembered the peculiar way his left arm hung about his side. In his right hand he clenched something rounded, heavy and metallic. But it was the two shapes, unmoving, slumped before him the darkness that caused the tears to cloud his vision. The tears made his memory hazy and vague.

DING…

Crybaby Livio, they called him. Thanks to Nicholas' doggedness, they all started to call him that. But not now. Now they called him Big Brother. And he was quite fine with that because it was Nicholas' old name. He had certainly played the part upon arriving, and he wondered if Nicholas ever felt as tired as he did this morning.

DING…

Livio stopped all movement, and realized he'd slept most of the morning. He heard the heavy footsteps of Auntie Melanie making the way through the empty hall. The foot falls stopped in front of his door and he heard the most timid of knocks.

DING…

"Come in." Livio said strapping the last buckle of his boots.

"Livio? Are you feeling alright?" she turned the knob and let herself in. She was older than he remembered, more grey had filled her temples and she squinted more than not.

"Is it really noon? I didn't mean to sleep so long." He straightened his back and stretched. His hands brushed the ceiling.

"I'll let it slide just this once." she tightened her kerchief and placed her hands on her robust hips. "I remember how you always slept until mid afternoon. I hope you're not still growing." She laughed quietly to herself as she started to pick up the clothes that littered the room.

"I'll get those." he started to say, but she flitted a wave to shush him as she stacked his clothes over one of her arms.

"You've been doing all of my errands and I haven't a thing to do to keep me occupied. Really, Livio I wonder why you aren't still asleep!" She harrumphed.

He relented because it was true. He sometimes forgot that Auntie Melanie wasn't Auntie Melanie unless she was cleaning, chastising, cooking, and rearing all at the same time. Not only that, but there was no disagreeing with Auntie Melanie.

"You'll spoil me and the children if you keep that up. Everyone has to do their part. You can't do it all." In less than a minute she had all that he owned, bundled in her arms. "Now come on, you've got a visitor."

Now that did surprise him. He suddenly wished he had shaved. He quickly grabbed his hat and wind wrap.

They made their way through the courtyard of the makeshift orphanage. He was happy to see the beginning of green grass; growing radial from the building the new plant had been installed. It was the first thing the kids all wanted to have; trees to climb and grass to play on.

Further back, he could catch glimpses of the fenced animals that they had taken in. Most of them were dogs, some birds that could not fly, and aging cats. There were even a few native animals like the Thonises that were neither bird nor reptile. The chickens were clucking and shuffling their feet behind a rather reinforced pen. After an unfortunate attack on the chickens by some wild dogs, he had to relocate and reinforce the coup.

He heard singing filtering through the church doors and took an exasperated breath. He'd slept till noon AND missed mass. Just as well, it was Sunday after all and he needed the rest.

She led him to the bistro where a man was already seated and eating. Livio recognized the thick head of dark brown hair before the man turned to face him.

"Brad?"

"You need a hair cut." Brad said smiling as he shoveled egg omelet into his mouth.

"I never thought I'd see you here. What's the occasion?" Livio placed a hand on Brad's shoulder as he sat down beside him. "It's an awful long way for an honest to God omelet."

"A job." Brad said in between chews, "As a bodyguard for a fleet of the very best the Federation has to offer."

Livio heard the sarcasm in Brad's voice when he spoke of the Federation. Even though Brad was employed by the Federation, Brad was not known to trust easily. Livio remembered first day he met Brad and the unpleasant scuffle that followed. But still, Brad was as honest as they come.

"I can't take it. I'm needed here." Livio stated simply.

"That's not what I heard." Brad cast a knowing glance at Auntie Melanie who quickly fled the room. "Seems to me you need to do something more compatible with your skills else you'll loose them. And that would be a might shame."

"I was a mercenary, a gun for hire. Forgetting how to kill a man would be just dandy."

"I happen to be good at mechanics… you happen to be good at fighting. You can't take what you are good at out of you. It's not a choice. Besides, I didn't say anything about killing anyone." Brad said mildly annoyed, "Guarding a single sandsteamer and a crew in the middle of nowhere isn't going to lead to daily gunfights."

"Why have bodyguards at all?"

"Precious cargo. So precious they asked me to find the best man for the job and now, here I am." Brad finished his plate and directed his incisive hazel gaze level to Livio's. "Interested now?"

"Precious you say?" Livio touched his chin absentmindedly. It was apparent that Auntie Melanie had already spoken to Brad about the job and enthusiastically gave her blessing. He speculated her whereabouts for a moment.

Was she off packing his things and preparing to usher him to this new job?

"Well?" Brad stood gathering his plate and placing it in the sink.

"Can I sleep on it?" Livio said thinking of the lengthy goodbyes to come. The kids would be upset, but the 'kids' really weren't THAT young anymore. The youngest was 10 and the oldest was 15. It would do them some good to distribute the entire work load between them.

There was only one thing to do. Livio took a deep breath.

"When do I start?"


	5. Chapter 5

005

Knives

He was gone.

When he approached the edge of the door, he knew beyond a doubt that this place had not one living soul. Mesa Probe had been his home while his brother healed. But now, in the dark and alone, Knives could not comprehend the effect of the still silence.

It deafened him and great apprehension infected his every passing thought.

Vash was gone. As was the man and his son.

What had been the boy's name? Should he not remember? He had a memory, such a vague memory of this boy's face as it changed from happiness to horrified surprise. Then nothing.

Nothing

He stepped into the dark house, dirt and grime clung to his bare feet the way the dusty sand never had. The door had fallen off the hinges some time ago. And shadows were the only thing inside to greet him.

Wasn't this clamoring hush the very thing he always wanted?

He blinked his eyes many times because the blackness was too dark. Too solid to be true darkness. From where he stood it looked like the shadows were made of black mist.

He pulled a finger across the table top and found there was no dust. He saw that he agitated the black inky mist floating aimlessly around the room. It was when the tiny specks touched at his bare skin that he realized once again, what sort of nightmare he had actually stumbled upon.

He was at a place of death and nothingness. His memories returned but only in flashes so blinding he could not see them. He grimaced, shutting his eyes but still the images fluttered by like so many wings beating at his face.

He felt his body fall forward and his arms braced against the table. He tried to breathe but found he had no need in this place and the heart he thought he felt was only the trembling and vibrations of his panic. How many countless times would he end up here, shivering and alone having forgotten everything he had realized before?

How many times would peer over the brink and be filled with the terrible knowledge that he had not in fact died. That he was trapped in something else far worse than death? Words echoed as he was sure they echoed many times before, "You will be even less than human…"

Conrad was long dead but the apparition of his form gathered in the gloom. "Forgive us…" his sad voice chimed. Then he saw a figure behind that of Conrad. Kneeling, head touching the ground and dark hair splayed about her body.

"Rem…" Knives spoke her name, his voice hummed in a peculiar way he wasn't sure he had spoken at all. But the sound of her name brought her into full sight. There was a shifting of the shadows and the murkiness seemed to leave her. The room began to brighten as if the morning had come. But he did not want to see her face, see her eyes and see the righteousness that came from them.

She started to rise.

Knives saw the black mist repel from Rem as she stood and he felt the tiny particles landing haphazardly along his skin. He felt his fingers grasping at nothing as he fell through the table. Terrible vibrations shuttered through out his being but his eyes still beheld her form. Saw as her hands reached for him.

Knives screamed. He writhed on the ground as the black mists threatened to swallow him whole. And he watched in horror as Rem's reaching fingers closed the distance between them. However, for a moment she caught his eyes with hers and he could not shut her away.

The dreadful sensations stopped and his screams died in his throat. Quiet regret and shame forced drops of dark black to fall from his eyes. He felt the lightest of touches, like cool sunlight, on his cheeks. He felt her finger tips gently urging him to face her. The blackness continued to seep from his eyes and saw glances of shimmering light.

"Knives…" her voice was sweet to almost singing.

It was too much.

"Now?" Knives yelped while he found strength in his rage. The horrific vibrations returned and his face contorted with pain, and he sobbed. But he didn't concern himself with the vulnerability and the way his emotions were plainly presented on his face. He only felt pain, an old pain, a child's pain.

"You would come to me now?" he cried out and he noticed the effect of his voice on Rem. Her skin looked to be like water and his shout had caused the surface of her skin to ripple. Her eyes remained fixed on his, full of love and trust.

There was no judgment.

Black tears obscured his vision. He could no longer keep his sights upon her. He reached up to rip her hands away from him but he had no material, no solid thing to touch her with.

"Damn you! Damn you for coming to me now!" he fumed and sobbed.

"…do you love Rem?" Conrad's voice filled his ears and he answered just as quickly.

"Yes." he stated simply. Truth was the only thing he had left in this strange place.

"Then it will be alright…"

Suddenly, he was standing upright. Conrad and Rem had both disappeared. The black mist settled lazily at the floor and his tears had ceased. Light still filled the room but he could now see the source of it. He walked slowly to the back of the house and stepped back onto the sandy ground.

He saw the branches spreading outward nearly above the roof. Several apples hung from the soaring branches and the tree itself seemed to pulse with life. He felt vibrations but they were not painful, they were not agitated, they simply were and they were strangely comforting and familiar. He felt stronger as he came closer to the base of the trunk.

The black mist had vanished entirely. And he could hear the sound of a voice, but it was not in his head. He knew that voice. He could remember his face. He leaned forward and touched the tree, fearing that he still had no form but when he felt the roughness of the bark, and the contrast between the warmth of his fingers, he remembered very suddenly, a strange thing.

The boy's name.

His name was Carl.

He felt warmth. The air was charged and impossibly bright. He was sitting with his back to the tree, the bark dug uncomfortably into his skin. His left arm was hooked over a low hanging branch and he felt the dizzying weakness return as his body slumped against the tree.

It was too bright to see, but he knew where he was. Everything hurt. Everything was dying the moment he returned. His breath caught in his chest and he could hear himself grunting every time he exhaled.

He heard footfalls and a child's voice. He felt a small hand touching his shoulder, shaking at him.

"Dad! Dad! DAD!"

Knives wanted to tell the kid to stop yelling in his ear, to stop shoving at him but it was all he could do to keep breathing. He didn't want to disappear again. He didn't want to forget so soon after remembering. His hand had taken a tremulous hold onto the tree while the other had dug into the sand. He tried to feel the vibration of the tree again, but all he could feel was the burden of existing.

"…_Then it will be alright."_

Why?

How can anything be alright?

Knives felt cool water being poured over his head. Carl's father had put a cup to his mouth and urged him to drink. Then Knives felt the most peculiar sensation along the right side of his body. Carl's father had dropped the cup and Carl had begun to sniffle and cry.

Something had gone wrong.

Knives chanced a glance out his left eye and saw that his leg was bleeding from several places where the skin seemed to be missing. His arm looked the same and when he saw the blood he felt a wave of coldness at the back of his neck. His skin had gone clammy while the blood that run from his many wounds was hot.

Such a queer feeling.

He lost the grip he had on the tree, fell over and retched.

He heard Carl's father shouting things, but it didn't matter what he said. Knives continued to breath. He kept his breath steady and focused on gritty sand in his eyes. He felt a sharp needle probing his skin, sewing at the worst cut in his right hip. He focused on that as well.

He couldn't remember how many times he pitched his stomach, or how many times he thought he lost to the darkness, but he was certain, beyond a doubt, he did not disappear.

Not again.

AN: oh my goodness, i am so sorry it took me so long to get this out. knives is a VERY hard character to write and further impeded by stupid writers block. please please please, critique me if something is off a little or if there was something i should have included. i really enjoy getting all kinds of feedback. even bad.


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